


Shouldering your loneliness, like a gun you will never learn to aim

by MuddlingAlong



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: ABBA, Dancing, F/F, Fluff, Leonard Cohen - Freeform, a little bit of crying, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuddlingAlong/pseuds/MuddlingAlong
Summary: Post 25th of May episode where Charity finds out Debbie was shotVanessa thinks of some new ways to cheer up her girlfriend





	Shouldering your loneliness, like a gun you will never learn to aim

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I wrote this on Friday and I still don't know if I like it, plus it doesn't exactly fit in with what happened yesterday (Monday) but I guess this could also maybe have happened on Monday? Idk make of it what you will.
> 
> 2) Also the premise is mostly stolen from the film The Skeleton Twins feat. my true love Kristen Wiig so I cannot claim originality.
> 
> 3) Title is from the Cohen song mentioned in the fic, just like, how BLOODY PERFECT is that lyric? It fucking IS Charity. I can’t get over it. 
> 
> 4) Apparently all I'm capable of writing re Vanity is dancing and pure fluff, even when the situation is dire, sorryyyy

“If you can get her to actually do some work for once, that’d be great,” Chas’ voice is full of tiredness, and Vanessa has to bite back the angry retort that pushes behind her teeth as she rounds the bar. “And make her turn that bloody depressing music off!”

 

Rolling her eyes, muttering _her daughter was shot today, you_ \- and biting her tongue again, Vanessa hangs her coat up in the back and smoothes her hands through her hair, calming the flyaways. She rests her palm against the door to the living room with a slight sense of apprehension: she knows that Debbie is going to be OK, Chas’ ability to be unsympathetic had told her as much on top of Charity’s texts this evening. But the same cannot be said so certainly for Charity.

 

The handle offers her no resistance and she lets herself in slowly, not wanting to startle the room’s occupant. At first she doesn’t see her as the only light is from the kitchen, and Charity’s curled into the far corner of the sofa nursing an empty glass of wine. The expression on her face is completely vacant, staring into the chair opposite her as if it were the most interesting object in the world.

 

The “depressing music” is Leonard Cohen, soft, raspy melodies drifting through the air, burrowing themselves behind her eyes.

 

“Hey, love,” Vanessa says softly as she clicks the door shut behind her and Charity turns her head, eyes not leaving the chair.

 

“Hey.” Her voice is cracked and Vanessa’s heart breaks for her, at her side instantly, warm, solid hands pressing into her thigh. 

 

She can imagine all too well how she is feeling. Once, when Adam took Johnny, she felt like the bottom had dropped out from her world and she just- emptied. Like her child was the only thing worth anything and suddenly everything lost its colour and meaning and her brain just forgot how to process anything else. 

 

Johnny had been returned and with him the colour and the meaning, but she never forgets that feeling. It echoes in her lungs when he’s ill or when he cries. She can feel wisps of it now even for a daughter who’s not her own, can see it burning in Charity’s eyes.

 

“I’ve only just found out, Charity, I’m so, so sorry, I was with dad and me phone ran out of battery, I came as soon as I could.” She doesn’t respond at first, and Vanessa squeezes her leg, gently prises the empty glass out of her hand and places it on the table.

 

Charity turns, finally, to look at Vanessa, face full of a fake smile. “It’s OK, babe, it’s not been a great day for mobile communication all round, actually.”

 

“How is she?” One hand in hers, the other at the crook of her elbow, steadying.

 

The smile falters and becomes watery, her voice shaky, “yeah, she’s gonna be fine,” Charity nods almost furiously, as if trying to convince herself. “It was touch and go, apparently, but they’ve got the- it- out and she’s had surgery, she can probably come home some time next week.” The words trip over themselves as if she can’t bear to spend time curling her tongue round them.

 

Vanessa smiles, leaning in, “thank goodness. Do they know what happened?” 

 

A dark shadow crosses the green eyes and her lip curls, “no. But if I ever find out-” she falters into clenched teeth and drops her gaze to where Vanessa’s thumb is rubbing slow circles into the inside of her wrist.

 

Vanessa follows her eye line, watches the quiver in Charity’s fingers that are worrying themselves together. She sighs and shuffles closer, folds her legs up underneath her and presses herself against Charity’s side, an arm round the back of the sofa toying softly with her curls.

 

A thousand phrases crowd into her head: _they’ll catch whoever did it, Debbie’s so strong, such a fighter, I knew she’d be fine_. But none of them are right. So she asks her the one thing that she suspects no one has asked her today.

 

“How are you?” She knows it’s the right question when Charity’s eyes fill immediately with tears.

 

“It’s stupid,” she whispers, “I know she’s gonna be fine,” she rubs fiercely underneath her eyes, removing those traitorous traces of weakness. “But when Graham told me-” her voice breaks again and she presses her eyelids closed as if to stop other thoughts from escaping. 

 

Vanessa wants to wrap her arms round her and brush away the tear tracks, carry her off to other worlds where pain and guns don’t exist, press love into her skin, take away this anguish. But she stays quiet, leaves the silence for Charity to fill, like she’s learned to.

 

As if to justify herself, Charity says “I wanted to stay, I would have stayed, but she told me to go, Joe’s with her.” 

 

Vanessa throws her a look of confusion at “Joe” that she seems to sense, even without looking.

 

“Don’t ask,” she mutters and her face clouds over. “It’s just-” she starts speaking again as if carrying on an unfinished thought, “I thought my heart had stopped. She’s gonna be OK, I do know that, she’s going to be fine, but I just _can’t_ shake that feeling. And she looked so- in that hospital gown whatsit. My Debs. And all I could think of was what a terrible mother I’ve been.” Her face twists over the words, and she presses her lips together, and Vanessa knows, without really knowing how she knows it, that she’s got it out.

 

“It’s not stupid.” Vanessa hums, “you feel this way because she’s your daughter and you love her.” Charity sniffles, and Vanessa leans towards her, “and yes, you know she’s going to be OK, but it’s been a massive shock as well, so of course you’re still a bit shaky.”

 

She cups the back of her head, feels gratified when she leans back into it, pressing her hand into the back of the sofa. 

 

“It’s very much OK to know one thing and feel another thing, you know.” Charity looks up at her, eyes wide and glassy, and for a second Vanessa wonders whether anyone has ever told her that. Sometimes, despite everything, there's a devastating innocence in Charity's eyes that startles her. “Even it doesn’t make logical sense. And you’re _not_ a terrible mother. You love her so much. You love all of them.” 

 

Charity closes her eyes and squeezes Vanessa’s hand. She falls into silence. 

 

Vanessa knows this Charity. At the beginning, when Charity was like this, Vanessa felt like she was walking in the dark. One wrong move and it would be _drag you through the bar by your hair_ , or _I’ll be bored of you in a week_ , or worse, screaming silence. But now she’s figuring out her way, figuring out Charity code, feeling her way through a landscape that now feels increasingly familiar. Often, it’s not about what Vanessa says, but what Vanessa _does_ that makes the dark a little less dark.

 

Tonight, Charity doesn’t need to spend hours going over every single moment of the day. She doesn’t even need Vanessa to spend more hours telling her that she’s not a bad mother, that it’s alright that she feels things, that she is loved no matter what, even though Vanessa feels she could spend the rest of her life doing that. (And has thought about how, actually, that’s something she might really quite like to do). She has said the things she needed to say, found a voice for the swirling thoughts inside her head and now they’re out, she feels a little freer. Her cheeks a little warmer, her muscles a little softer.

 

Vanessa leans forward and kisses Charity once, lips soft and closed, slightly salty. “Hey,” she whispers, breathes a tiny smile to her lips. “D’you want a brew?”

 

Charity shakes her head, lifting up and opening her eyes properly.

 

“Some more wine? A whiskey?”

 

“No, I’m good.” After a second Charity lets out a breath, “what a responsible person you’re turning me into.” 

 

Vanessa raises her eyebrows, “I bloody hope not, life would be pretty boring without your ridiculous capers, Miss Dingle,” she nudges her with her knee, “and whiskey’s got us into enough trouble before, if I remember correctly,” she says with a conspiratorial grin.

 

As quickly as Charity’s face breaks out in a smile, it is stolen by guilt and a bitten lip. Vanessa tunes back into the music, the melancholy swimming into her brain.

 

“I didn’t know you were a Leonard Cohen fan,” she enquires.

 

Charity sighs, “I’m not really. Well, I’m not a _fan_ , but I like him sometimes. I know he’s a bit- gloomy. Me dad used to listen to him when I was a kid, when he was calm.” Vanessa searches her face for a tell of something more, she so rarely talks of her parents. But there’s nothing and she rests her head on her arm against the sofa back.

 

“What’s this song?” Vanessa never really liked this sort of music much, only knows the famous stuff, only listened to it when others were.

 

Charity looks long into her eyes, like she sees something only she can see, and it’s so gentle and so soft that Vanessa thinks she could swim in it. “Love Calls You By Your Name,” she says.

 

Something in the way she says it makes Vanessa shiver. “What’s it about?” she whispers.

 

With a little sigh and a smile, Charity leans on her hand, propped up against the sofa. “I don’t really know. I always thought it was about love being the thing that makes you honest.” Vanessa watches her eyebrows knit together slightly as she considers, as if she weren’t saying big true deep things. “But now I think- I think it’s about how life is everything from the really great, wonderful bits to the lying in the gutter bits, and in-between those moments, love is what gives it all meaning, even the shitty bits, or the boring bits.” 

 

She pauses for a second, and then scoffs slightly, suddenly self-aware and a bit embarrassed. “You know what, I will have that wine.”

 

Vanessa presses a long kiss into Charity’s temple and stands, grateful for the opportunity to move so that she can blink away the tears that have formed in the corners of her eyes.

 

She busies herself with the wine and pours herself a glass. As she screws the bottle top on, she looks back over at Charity, wonders if she can hear herself in the words of the song. Her eyes have glazed over again, her fingers returned to twisting together like knots. The picture of sorrow.

 

Charity gratefully accepts the wine, curls her fingers of one hand round the glass, the other round Vanessa’s ankle as she sits down.

 

A cloud of silence settles over them as the song comes to an end, and Vanessa watches Charity wipe at her eyes again. Suddenly emboldened by a desire to bring some sort of levity to the room, she stands quickly and moves over to the little speakers on the dresser.

 

Charity looks up in confusion, “what’re you doing?” 

 

“Something,” Vanessa doesn’t turn around when she answers, busying herself with the speakers.

 

She knows that Charity likes this song, can remember once when it was playing in the pub and she had watched the barmaid’s lips mouth each word perfectly. 

 

Everything inside her wants to put a smile on that mouth, wants to see her let go of herself even just for four short minutes of a song. Offer her some relief. 

 

She spins round as she presses play so she can watch Charity’s face, leans against the dresser on her elbows and bites her bottom lip in an overly seductive move.

 

At the first few notes of Lay All Your Love on Me and Vanessa’s stance, Charity’s mouth falls open slightly. As Vanessa slithers down the dresser and back up again, Charity’s eyebrows practically disappear into her hair. And when the beat picks up and Vanessa pushes herself away and begins wiggling towards her, Charity lets out a shout of a laugh and then clasps her hands to her mouth.

 

And then Vanessa knows, _knows_ , she’s doing the right thing. Anything for that smile.

 

She stops just five feet short of Charity, who watches her with eyes that can’t decide whether to be incredulous or amused, and performs a sort of mime to the lyrics of the song, bopping about on her feet and hips dancing madly.

 

At _I’m possessive it isn’t nice_ she grabs Charity’s hands and holds them to her chest, only to drop them and spin, returning to mime _smoking was my only vice_ , pointing an accusing finger at Charity who huffs guiltily. She drops to her knees dramatically to sing the _but now it isn’t true_ part, gesticulating wildly and swaying, clasping her hands together at _I beg of you…_

 

Charity, apparently only just having regained the power of speech, exclaims “what are you doing, you mad woman?!”

 

Her face is changing expression as rapidly as Vanessa’s dance moves are melting into one another, switching from horror to wonder to holding in laughter, but when Vanessa holds out a hand in an offer to join her, Charity raises her eyebrows and folds her arms stubbornly.

 

Vanessa doesn’t let it bother her and sings the chorus, practically skipping round the sofa, waving her arms around in moves reminiscent of that time in the gay bar. Charity, despite her attempts to appear grimly disapproving, follows her with her eyes and has to force her lips to stay downturned.

 

Just as the second verse begins, Charity opens her mouth to speak, presumably some sort of objection, but Vanessa presses a finger to her lips, pulling her bottom lip down as she drags it down her chin. There’s something golden in Charity’s horrified amusement at Vanessa’s behaviour, and she knows that she’s completely, completely distracted.

 

_It was like shooting a sitting duck,_  
_A little small talk, a smile, and baby, I was stuck._  
_I still don’t know what you’ve done with me,_  
_A grown-up woman should never fall so easily._

 

As she mimes the words, Vanessa begins to realise how ridiculously accurate this song is for her, and her dancing takes on a new energy. She puts a foot on the table and shimmies (at which Charity has to literally bite her thumb to stop herself from screeching), then she turns her back and puts her head over her shoulder, bum shaking wildly. At _I feel a kind of fear_ , she nears Charity again, standing right in front of her and, with her hands underneath her chin, mimes right into her eyes, and finally brings a weary, affectionate smile to her mouth.

 

The relief is like a warm flood, _she’s cracked her._

She pulls her into a ballroom dancing pose and they swing together into the chorus, Vanessa leading and spinning Charity almost reluctantly into a wild swing dance, twirling her round the room.

 

After maybe two seconds, Charity’s laughing, hopelessly against Vanessa’s shoulder as they round the table, nearly toppling over it. Vanessa joins in and they giggle breathily, Charity clinging to her like a life raft on a ridiculously stormy sea. It feels like they could dance into another dimension together as they spin and duck and sway.

 

As they slow down into a less ambitious rhythm, Charity curls her arms round Vanessa’s waist, a flushed smile all over her face. Vanessa feels her heart could burst at the sight, proud of herself, and a little embarrassed, that she had put that there.

 

“I hate ABBA,” Charity grumbles.

 

Vanessa rolls her eyes, “no, you don’t. I’ve seen you singing along, Charity Dingle, you know all the words.”

 

“Yeah, well,” she searches for an excuse, but can’t find one. “They’re alright, I suppose.”

 

“You’re their biggest fan, Mrs. You can tell the rest of the world you like Leonard Cohen, but _I know_ you’re an old sap who listens to ABBA.” Vanessa purses her lips together in a mocking smile.

 

She sighs, “the secret’s out. I’ll have to be more careful in future, if you’re watching me every time I’m having a sneaky dance in the kitchen.”

 

With a delighted gasp, “you never said there was _dancing_!”

 

Charity groans, “I’m really not doing very well at the whole ‘secrets’ thing tonight, am I? It’s a lot better than the show you just put on, anyroad.”

 

Vanessa nudges her hips against Charity’s, “you loved it. Admit it, you have never seen anything so artistically impressive and dreadfully sexy.”

 

“You got ‘dreadful’ right,” Charity laughs, and kisses away Vanessa’s offended gasp.

 

The song has merged into The Winner Takes It All, and Charity rests her cheek against Vanessa’s, melting with her into the rhythm.

 

Vanessa holds her close, feels her muscles relax against hers. This was exactly what she had hoped for. She doesn’t have to carry her away to other worlds or bring the heavens to their feet to make her smile. All she needs is a Swedish pop group from the 70s and a momentary lapse in self-consciousness. 

 

“Will you come to the hospital with me tomorrow?” Charity whispers into her ear. 

 

Vanessa leans back to catch her eyes, “yeah, of course, if you want me to.” 

 

Charity nods, “yeah. I mean, it’ll be chaos, with Joe, and apparently something’s happened with Ross, and there’ll probably be police and Cain and the kids and of course Debbie has just been-” she falters and Vanessa squeezes her shoulders.

 

“I’ll be there,” she says, and Charity smiles gratefully and looks down. “Maybe I can do a little dance for Debbie? Cheer everyone up?” She shimmies her shoulders slightly, reminiscent of her earlier exertions.

 

Charity gazes at her and laughs softly. “You daft mare,” she says, but there’s so much affection in it that she could almost have said _I love you._

 

Vanessa glows, winds her arms round Charity’s neck and pulls her closer. “Isn’t that what you love about me, babe?” And then she kisses her.


End file.
